A Surprise Guest
by myeerah
Summary: Squall welcomes a mysterious someone into his room and his bed. Who could it be? Rated for sexual innuendo and hints of yaoi. [COMPLETE]
1. A Midnight Visit

Disclaimer for the whole story: I have absolutely no claim on Final Fantasy or its characters. That distinction belongs entirely to Square. Yay for them.

Night 

A small sound outside his door interjected itself into Squall's sleepless night. He cautiously rose, reaching beside the bed to grasp his gunblade, and softly padded to the door.

Carefully, slowly, he opened the door a crack, then, on seeing the figure outside, opened it the rest of the way, relief pouring through him.

"I should have guessed it was you," Squall murmured as the shape silently darted past him into the room. After checking to make sure there was no one watching in the hall, Squall shut and locked his door. He turned, intent on replacing his weapon, and spotted eager eyes waiting for him from the middle of his bed.

Amusement pulled the corner of his mouth back in a faint smirk. "I should have guessed it was you," he repeated dryly. "Who else would have the guts?" He swiftly set the blade in its stand and turned back to the bed. The eyes still shone brightly, fixed on him from their position beneath mussed hair. An impatient growl, formed deep in the throat, entreating him to come to bed made the other corner of Squall's mouth twitch back, thus forming a full, if small, smile.

"Alright," he said smoothly, "but I feel ridiculous in this." Squall indicated his state of dress with a vague motion. "Briefs and a t-shirt are hardly appropriate attire in which to receive guests," he added.

His guest merely stared, impressed by neither the rare verbosity nor the attempt at humor from the stoic Commander, and thumped the bed demandingly.

"Fine. You win." Squall stripped off his shirt. "It's too hot for this, anyway." He sat on the mattress and ran a hand through his bedmate's silky hair, and then stretched out, a warm body pressed to his side and hot breath in his ear.


	2. Rinoa's Announcement

The previous morning 

"Everybody? I have an announcement to make." Rinoa looked around to make sure her circle of friends were all listening. Satisfied that she had their attention, she tucked a dark tendril of hair behind her ear and continued. "I'm leaving tomorrow," her voice rose to carry over the protests, "because I need to get back to Timber. I worked out a deal with—" her mouth twisted in distaste,"—my _father_, and we're negotiating terms for independence."

Selphie crowed with delight and Zell punched the air in excitement. His movement unfortunately upset the table, dumping a fresh cup of coffee into the lap of a quiet young woman seated next to him. She shrieked in startled pain, cast a murderous look at the abashed blond, and hurried out. Suddenly pale, Zell scuttled after her.

"But," Selphie said, ignoring the commotion, "what about lover-boy here?" She made a motion toward Squall, who was staring after the departing couple, oblivious to the resumed discussion.

"What do you mean?" Rinoa asked, a faint hint of pink creeping over her cheeks. "We're just friends."

"Yeah," Selphie smirked. "'Friends' who played kissy-face last night."

"We just— It wasn't— We're not— Squall?" stammered Rinoa.

He turned his pale gaze to Rinoa and lifted an eyebrow inquiringly.

"Selphie thinks that kiss on the balcony last night meant something," she explained.

With a small shrug he replied, "It did."

An excited screech made eyes turn in their direction, but everybody was so used to Selphie's exuberant outbursts that they immediately turned away in dismissal. Selphie went on, heedless of the disruption she'd caused, "I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!" She continued in singsong, "Squall's in love with Rinoa! Squall's in love with Rinoa! Squall's in lo—"

Irvine, catching the look on Squall's face, had clamped his hand over Selphie's mouth, and now inclined his head to the irritated man. "Go on."

With a brief nod of thanks, Squall resumed, "It meant 'thanks for saving my life,' and I would have done the same for any of you."

"Any of us?" Four heads turned at the quiet words. Quistis had been silent thus far, but now was sitting up, leaning slightly in Squall's direction, a strange expression on her face.

"Yes." The brunette addressed the question at face value. "Any of you," he repeated. "What's a kiss between good friends, after all?"

Looking thoughtful, Quistis opened her mouth to reply, but—

"Mmmph!" Irvine glanced at his hand, still covering Selphie's small face. "Oh, sorry Sephie," he said apologetically, and released her.

Selphie stuck her tongue out at him then said, "I'm hungry. Who's coming with me?" Irvine stood and, after a curious glance at Squall, so did Quistis. The three of them wandered toward the breakfast line in the cafeteria.

There was silence for several moments while Squall sipped at his tea and Rinoa tried to think of how to ask what she needed to ask him.

Finally, "Squall?"

He looked up.

"Did you mean that?"

He nodded, smiling faintly.

"Would you—" she broke off, took a deep breath to steady herself, and then went on. "Would you do me a favor… as a—a friend?" Her eyes pleaded with him.

His brow furrowed, but slowly, carefully, Squall nodded his assent.

"Great!" Rinoa beamed at him in relief. "I'll see you." She winked suggestively at him. "Until tonight, then." With a broad smile, she rose to join the others in line.


	3. Irvine's Dilemma

"Squall, man, can we talk?" Irvine plopped down in the next seat, dropping his tray on the table.

"Where are the others?"

"They all went to the restroom. Beats me why they go in groups, but… " Irvine sighed. "I really don't know what to do about Selphie. What do you think?"

"About what?" Squall sipped at his tea.

"'About what?'" Irvine was incredulous. "She's got some notion about me wanting a relationship with her!"

"And don't you?" Another swallow.

"No. Why would she think that, anyway?" Confusion painted his features. "She's a friend, like you and Rinoa. She's almost a sister to me. I just don't know how to tell her that without hurting her feelings."

"You're coming to me for advice on tact? Been drinking this morning, I take it?"

Irvine laughed. "Good point." He winked broadly and touched Squall's hand companionably. "Still, I figured you might have an idea. After all," he continued, as Squall raised his cup again, "Rinoa's okay with you being gay, so I thought you could help me tell Selphie that I am, too."

Silence.

"Squall?"

Tea sprayed over the table as Squall finally managed to breathe in enough to cough. Frantically patting his friend's back, Irvine said, "You okay? What's wrong?"

Grabbing a lapel, Squall dragged the sniper away from the curious looks and into a secluded area near the infirmary.

"Explain," he demanded.

"Sorry, man." Irvine was abashed. "I thought you knew. Don't tell me _you_ thought all the flirting was serious… "

"We'll get back to that later. What makes you think I'm gay?"

"Well… aren't you? I mean, look at you! You're beautiful! You never show any interest in women—not even for fun, like I do." He began ticking off fingers as he spoke. "You do everything Zell tells you to do. You blew off Quistis when any straight man would have had her on the floor. You act really effeminate, too. Like right now, with that hand on one hip 'I'm little Miss Attitude' thing you have."

Squall looked down, dropped his hand from where it rested on his hip, and shifted his posture so he was standing straight.

He coughed.

A pink flush was creeping up his neck, just barely visible above his furred jacket collar. He nervously adjusted his tight shirt and double belts.

He folded his arms crossly over his chest, then thought about how it all looked. Irvine's knowing grin pushed him into speech. "So… you're gay and need to tell Selphie."

Mischief danced in his eyes, but Irvine decided not to risk it. "Not exactly. I _have_ told her, but she doesn't believe me. She gets jealous and I'm not even interested in her like that. I just need to prove it to her, so she'll understand that I flirt with women for fun."

"So, what? You're going to invite her to watch you make out with another guy?"

Irvine simply stared, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

"No." Squall backed away a step.

"C'mon, man. You kissed Rinoa. You said you'd do the same for any of us! I'm begging you, help me out, here," Irvine pleaded.

"…Whatever."

"Squall— Fine, then. How did you break it to Rinoa?"

"I didn't!" he burst out. "I didn't have to tell her anything, she understood already. And I'm not saying I'm gay!" he added defensively. "She just understood how I felt."

"Still," Irvine pressed, "you said you'd kiss any of us. One kiss—that's all I'm asking. One kiss where Selphie can see and believe."

"Not…" Squall sighed in resignation. "Not where anyone could see. Somewhere private."

"Thanks, man." Irvine grinned and clapped him on the back. "Not to worry, discretion is my middle name."

"Irvine Discretion Kinneas?"

Irvine just laughed and turned to leave.

"Say, Irvine?" Squall interrupted.

"Hmm?" He turned back.

"Did you mean it… when you said I'm beautiful?"

"Oh, sweetheart," Irvine chuckled, just as Selphie, Rinoa, and Quistis rounded the corner, presumably looking for them, "you're absolutely gorgeous." He pulled Squall to him and kissed him deeply.

Surprised, Squall floundered for a moment, then sank into his friend's arms, wrapping his own around the auburn haired man's back, getting tangled in the riding duster that he never seemed to be without.

Breaking off with a last tender nibble of Squall's lower lip, he looked down and said, just loud enough to carry to the watching girls, "I'll see you tonight," and strode off.

"…Whatever."


	4. Selphie's Sorrow

"Um… Squall?" Quistis' voice came from behind him. Squall hastily wiped his mouth and turned around.

"Something you want to tell us?" Quistis continued?

Frowning slightly, Squall shook his head.

"It's just," she pursued, "we all saw you kissing Irvine." Squall blanched. "Is there something we should know?"

"Irvine," he began awkwardly, "asked me for a favor. He wants to convince Selphie that he's gay."

They both looked over at Selphie, who was standing stiff, her jaw dropped, green eyes glittering with unshed tears, ignoring Rinoa, who was holding her hand and speaking softly, presumably words of comfort.

"I think it worked," the former instructor remarked. "Now what are you going to do about Selphie?" She watched in amusement while Squall folded his arms, his eyebrows deeply furrowed. Her expression changed when she glanced over to Selphie again, who had shaken off Rinoa's restraining arm and had murder in her eyes.

"Think fast, Squall. She's coming."

Quistis barely had time to dodge as Selphie darted up and punched Squall solidly in the jaw.

His head barely moved with the impact, but otherwise he stood perfectly still, arms still folded impassively across his chest as he watched Selphie hop around, clutching at her hand.

"You need to hold your wrist straight, aim for a spot several inches past the point of impact, and put your whole body into it," he observed, deadpan. "Want to try again?"

Gritting her teeth, Selphie swung again, this time with her left hand. Squall rocked back on his heels from the blow. He slowly brought one hand up to touch his face and stared, bemused, at the trace of blood. "Much better," he said, eventually, looking up from his hand to Selphie's furious eyes. "You still need to work on the follow through, though. If you ask, I'm sure Zell will give you some pointers."

Quistis and Rinoa exchanged glances. Neither one of them quite knew how to react to one friend offering helpful hints to another friend trying to beat the crap out of him. Rinoa raised an eyebrow inquisitively and spread her hands in a helpless, questioning movement. Quistis shrugged in reply and tilted her head to indicate that something was happening.

Selphie's temper had been building all the while, only aggravated by Squall's refusal to engage her in a fight. With an enraged shriek of, "Men!" she kicked his legs out from under him and followed him down.

After a confusing tangle of limbs, Squall ended up sprawled on his back, Selphie kneeling on his biceps and pinning his wrists with her hands.

"Ah… guys?" Rinoa ventured. "We're drawing a crowd. You might want to play this game later."

Selphie looked around and saw at least a dozen people staring at them, with more arriving all the time.

"Garden halls are not the place for this," Quistis said loudly. "Take your exercises to the training center."

Glowing red, Selphie levered herself to her feet. She extended an embarrassed hand to Squall.

He looked at it for a long moment before accepting the offer. Once on his feet he murmured, "Better?" causing Selphie to go almost purple from shame.

"Sorry," she whispered. In a more normal voice she added, "You guys can go. I'm not going to hit him again—and if he hits me, I deserve it."

"I won't hit you." Squall looked almost tender as he said it.

"Come on, Quisty," Rinoa declared, dragging the blonde off by the arm. "I've been meaning to talk with you." Moving through the still-gathered onlookers she added, "Show's over, folks. If you want to try again, they'll be here all week."

The two combatants waited silently until the crowd had shuffled away.

Finally, "I'm so sorry, Squall. It's just…"

"I know." He sighed. "Surprised me, too."

"Oh!" Selphie had just noticed the trickle of blood about to drip from his chin.

The brief tingle of a cure spell temporarily numbed his aching jaw as it repaired his split lip and soothed the blossoming bruises.

"Did I really hit that hard?" Selphie wondered, watching a barely formed mark the size of her fist seeping back into his flesh.

"No," Squall informed her. "I just bruise easily. Fair skin." A playful punch caught him in the arm. "I thought you were finished?"

Giggling, Selphie latched onto the arm she'd just hit. "Let's go to the library. It'll be quiet there, and I want to talk to you."

Squall allowed himself to be led into a back section of the library near a section on weapons, projectile, maintaining and repairing. He spent a moment pondering the often ridiculous categories for books before Selphie called his attention to her by the simple expedient of tapping him firmly on his forehead. He tried glaring at her, but in the face of her resumed unhappiness, he just couldn't manage it.

"Why?" The tears were back again, as quickly as they had vanished.

Taking a deep breath, Squall asked her, "Why did he kiss me? Or why didn't he kiss you?"

"Either! Or both. I don't know. He goes on about how much I mean to him, then he flirts with everyone in sight, then I find him lip locked with you, of all people!" The tears were running freely now. "Am I really so awful that he'd rather be with another guy?"

"He said that you wouldn't believe him when he told you he was gay. This reaction is exactly what he wanted to avoid. You do mean a lot to him; he said you were like a sister to him."

"I don't want to be his sister!" she wailed. "I just want him to want me!"

"Shhh… not so loud. We'll get kicked out." Her sobs only increased. Hesitantly, unsure of how to handle the situation, Squall gathered her shaking, crumpled form into his arms. "There, there," he said awkwardly, patting her back with one hand and keeping her head turned toward his shoulder with the other, attempting to muffle her cries. "There, there," he said again, at a loss for words.

Lifting her arms, Selphie caught his neck in a deathgrip, hugging him so hard he had difficulty breathing.

"Selphie," he choked out, "two murder attempts in one day is bad."

She turned blank eyes up at him, then, as comprehension dawned, loosened her hold on his throat. "Sorry," she said, a weary giggle coloring her words, "I didn't mean it. I just… I feel so bad. Why—" She choked, swallowed hard, and tried again. "Why did he kiss you?"

"He wanted to convince you that he's gay."

"But why _you_?" she insisted.

"He," Squall felt his blush growing again, "he seemed to be under the impression that I'm gay."

Selphie looked confused. "Aren't you?"

His jaw dropped as he cheeks burned. "Why does everybody think I'm gay?" he asked the ceiling.

"I thought you were when I met you, but then you seemed to be getting close to Rinoa, so I figured I was wrong. But then you were so adamant that you're _not_ dating Rinoa… and how you kissed Irvine…"

"Wait. Why did you think I was gay when we met?"

"I don't know. The way you dress, the way you act around girls. The way you stand like you're a little teapot."

"What?"

"You do! When you jut your hip out and put one hand on it… I just want to tip you over and pour you out!" A fit of giggles got the best of her; she buried her face in Squall's collar to stifle them.

Eventually, she looked up into his crimson face while he desperately wished he were somewhere else. "Squall?" Selphie spoke softly. "Thanks." She wriggled around until she was seated across his lap and touched his cheek tenderly with one hand. "I mean it. Thank you."

It didn't seem possible, but his blush deepened even more. Mumbling something inaudible, he looked away.

With a gentle touch she turned his face back to her. "What was it like?" she asked, wistfully.

"What was what like?"

"Kissing Irvine."

Squall considered for a moment.

"If you repeat this to anyone, I'll kill you."

Her eyes sparkled. "Cross my heart."

"I—it was… it was good. Different. More forceful than I'm used to. I think I liked it."

There was a strange smile on Selphie's face as she said, "Show me?"

Squall blinked in astonishment. "Show…?" he trailed off.

"I just need to know. Please?"

Wondering just how he kept getting into these situations, Squall nodded. He leaned down as Selphie turned her face up and their lips brushed.

A distinctive, deliberate cough made them both turn. A very displeased young woman was staring at them, tapping her foot in irritation.

"Ah. How about we continue this later?" Selphie winked. "Tonight?" She slipped off his lap and vanished through the door.

"Uh…"


	5. Zell's Depression

Squall didn't know what to say to the angry woman. He racked his brain trying to remember her name—"Zell's love interest" didn't sound right when it came to addressing the person in question.

"…Ako?" he ventured doubtfully. In the absence of a hostile response he continued, "Where's Zell?"

"Who cares?" she spat. "I hope he's playing tag with a hexadragon." She looked at him venomously and added, "Are you quite finished disturbing my library, Commander?"

Squall rose to his feet and headed for the door as Ako spun on her heels and stalked off in the opposite direction.

Figuring he could use the distraction, Squall made for the training center. It was probably the only place he could be alone, and the prospect of beating the hell out of a T-Rexaur or two somehow appealed.

When he entered the jungle-like terrain, though, it became apparent that today was just not going to be his day. The first thing he saw was a dead grat, obviously beaten to death. A few feet beyond lay two more, their gelatinous bodies splattered against the trees.

Venturing forward, Squall heard a familiar voice coming from near the bridge. "…Besides, it's genetic!" The inimitable sound of a leather-clad fist striking scaly flesh followed.

"Childish, am I?" the voice continued as Squall eased closer. "Barbaric, am I?"

Peeking around a tree, he was greeted with a unique sight. A young T-Rexaur, dead or unconscious, was dangling in a headlock, and Zell was furiously punching it with his other fist. At least a dozen grats and two more T-Rexaurs were casually strewn about him, all bearing signs of a severe beating.

"A rude, crude, gluttonous pig, huh?" More punches followed. "I'm not pathetic, and I'll have you know that my mother hasn't dressed me since I was nine!"

A flurry of blows descended on the hapless reptile. "I may be short, but I'm big enough to kick your ass!"

A surge of pity for the lizard swept over Squall and he opened his mouth to interrupt, but—

"Tactless, careless, callous, self-centered jerk? Do I _look_ like Squall?"

"Zell!" Squall barked.

The blond jumped, dropping the T-Rexaur, spun in the air and landed, facing Squall, who looked decidedly displeased.

"Um." Zell nervously dug his toe in the ground. "Heh. Squall… uh," he coughed. "How long have you been there?"

"Since 'childish.'" Squall folded his arms and glared.

"Oh…" Zell's face fell. "Sorry. I didn't mean that; it's just…" He collapsed to the ground, curling in on himself. "Ako hates me!" he said in a fierce whisper.

Squall shifted.

"Crap," Zell added fervently. "Now you hate me, too. You always stand that way when you're pissed."

Squall looked at himself and quickly moved his hand away from his hip. "I don't hate you," he said gruffly. "But that was out of line. Don't you agree?"

"You're hardly the cheerful fairy, I know that. Anyway," Zell continued accusingly, "you've said worse about me!"

That was true, Squall had to admit. "Yeah, but I said it to people, not alone with nobody around to hear but dead grats and a stunned T-Rexaur."

They both thought about that statement. Zell opened his mouth to speak a few times, but always reconsidered. Squall watched as the much-abused lizard struggle to its feet and stagger off. He wished it well.

In a reasonable tone of voice, Squall asked, "Self-centered?"

Zell looked at him; a grin had gripped his lips and refused to let go. "Yeah. That _was_ out of line… you callous jerk."

Squall smiled faintly and rested a hand on his spirited friend's shoulder. "Care to tell me why you're decimating the grat population? And just what did that Rex do to deserve that?"

"A victim of circumstance," Zell answered dryly. "It was within reach."

"I thought you had a punching bag."

"I do, but it doesn't fight back."

"You want a fight?" Squall shrugged off his jacket and laid it on the ground. He reverently unhooked his sheathed gunblade from his hip and nestled it in the folds of his jacket.

Zell's eyes narrowed as he watched. "Yes," he hissed. He stripped off his own jacket and carelessly tossed it on top of a monster pile.

"Remember," Squall admonished him, "my hand-to-hand is nowhere near yours."

"How about I take my gloves off?" Zell asked, his attention never leaving Squall.

"I wouldn't want the best fighter in SeeD to injure his hands," Squall replied, beginning to circle his opponent.

"No hits," Zell proposed, moving counter to Squall. "Old fashioned wrestling. Pin the other for a count of ten." Zell pulled the gloves from his hands and tossed them in the direction of his shed jacket.

"Agreed." Squall removed his own gloves and dropped them on his gunblade the next time he passed it.

Zell gave a short bark of laughter. "I don't remember the last time I saw your hands. They're even paler than the rest of you."

"Don't you start, too."

"Start what?"

"Never mind." The circled a few more times, occasionally feinting a movement at the other. "What happened with you and Ako?" Squall asked after an unsuccessful attempt at diverting Zell's attention to the wrong side.

"She dumped me," Zell responded bitterly. "She said she didn't know why she wasted so much time trying to get my attention." Striking like a snake, he managed to get a grip on Squall's arm, but Squall turned his wrist deftly and slipped out of his grasp. "You already heard most of what she said to me," he went on.

Knowing that Zell was stronger and more agile in this kind of fight, Squall tried to push at Zell's infamous temper. "She was right about one thing at least. You _are_ short."

With a shout of anger, Zell charged. Squall dodged to one side and Zell barely missed him, heading, instead, to the tree Squall had been in front of. Using his momentum, Zell grabbed ahold of the trunk and swung his body around the back of it. He emerged feet first on the other side and kicked Squall squarely in the middle of his back, sending him sprawling.

Before Squall could move he found himself pinned. His left hand was behind him, Zell's left knee holding it in place, and he could feel Zell's other knee at his hip. His right hand was near his head, Zell's hand pressing it to the ground, and there was pressure at the base of his neck.

"At least I still have time to grow," Zell growled.

Squall couldn't help it. He started laughing. Zell, taken aback, relaxed his grip slightly.

As soon as Zell let up, Squall kicked back, striking Zell in the butt. Yelping, Zell sat up, releasing Squall's right hand.

That was all he needed. Squall rolled to the left, knocking Zell onto his back. This time, Zell was the one who found himself pinned. Squall was holding his arms down, just below the elbow, with one hand and the opposite knee. Zell's hips were twisted to one side, giving him no freedom to kick at his captor with his free leg—his topmost leg being securely held in the crook of Squall's arm.

"Are you really hurt," Squall asked, breathing heavily, "or are you just upset for now?"

"Some of each," Zell replied with perfect candor. "Squall… we're friends, aren't we?"

"You have to ask?"

"With you? Of course. It's impossible to tell how you really feel under that shell of yours."

Squall looked down. Zell's spike of hair had collapsed during their exertions and was tumbling over his vibrantly blue eyes in shining yellow threads.

"Zell," Squall began, "you're probably the best friend I've got."

A bright smile spread across Zell's face, but it quickly dimmed. "Tell me the truth… do you think I'm stupid?"

"Hardly," Squall scoffed. "No one as good with mechanics as you are can be stupid. You just act without thinking sometimes." Half a smile snuck onto his face. "I guess that makes two things she was right about. You're not only short, but you're tactless, too."

Since he was unable to shift Squall from his position, Zell resorted to crossing his eyes and sticking his tongue out. "Seriously, though. What do you see me as?" His sapphire gaze was nakedly pleading.

Squall frowned in thought. He finally answered, "When I didn't know you very well, I thought you were annoying, hyperactive, loud-mouthed, and obnoxious." Zell looked hurt and opened his mouth to speak, but Squall overrode him. "_After_ I got to know you, I realized that you are impulsive, yes, but you're energetic, warm, caring, generous, thoughtful, bright, funny, loyal… you have a childlike sense of wonder, a strong sense of playfulness… you're strong—in every respect." A corner of Squall's mouth pulled in an odd fashion. "You're everything I'm not."

Zell looked shocked, then his expression melted into something tender, tinged with wonder.

"Including," Squall continued, breaking the mood, "the inescapable fact that you're short."

"You son of a…" Zell pushed against the hand holding his wrist. To Squall's dismay, it lifted. With a snarl and a fierce heave from Zell, Squall toppled over backwards. Quickly rolling after him, Zell captured Squall's ankles under his arms and leaned forward to hold down the trapped man's arms at the wrist.

Squall tested the hold but couldn't find any way to move. His knees were pressed up to his chest with Zell's full weight bearing down on him. There was a surprising amount of mass on that compact frame.

He knew he was beaten, but Squall merely smirked and said, "That's a good look for you. You should wear your hair down more often."

Zell winked. "Flattery will get you everywhere… except up." His face took on a troubled cast. "Did you mean all that?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Every word. Shrimp."

Laughing, Zell taunted, "Like you're much better. You're only three inches taller… and that's with boots on."

"Damn. You've discovered my secret. Now I have to kill you."

Zell laughed harder. He looked down at Squall's face, scarcely inches from his own. "Where did you find a sense of humor?" he inquired teasingly.

"Strangest thing. It was rolled up in my sock drawer. I found it while looking for something to shut you up with." Zell caught the spark of mischief in his friend's color-shifting eyes. Right now they looked like a clearing storm—pale grey with flecks of blue.

"Why aren't you like this more often?" Zell asked.

"What can I say?" Squall tried to shrug, but gave up when Zell tightened his hold. "You bring out the worst in me."

"Squall?" Zell's broad grin faded into a small, concerned frown. "…Do you ever get lonely?"

That frown made a flippant answer impossible. He swallowed. "…All the time," he said, hardly louder than a whisper.

"Would you mind if…" Zell hesitated, then went on, "if I stopped by some night? To… talk? Or… or play cards, or something?"

"Zell…" Squall looked up into blindingly blue eyes framed by stray strands of soft, golden hair and continued, "I'd love it." Zell's mouth broadened in a toothy grin.

"Ahem," a voice broke in above their heads. Suddenly very conscious of their position, they both looked up. "If you're busy," Quistis went on, "I could come back later." There was a positive leer on her studious features.

Zell stammered, his face flushed with embarrassment, but Squall said, "…Ten. You win, Zell. Good match."

"Huh?" Zell looked stunned. "Oh. Yeah. Good match." He hastily pushed himself to his feet, letting Squall's cramped legs drop to the ground. "Thanks," he added as Squall rolled to his feet. "I'm going to get a shower and grab some lunch. I'll see you later, okay?" Hurriedly snatching up his jacket and gloves, Zell scurried away.

Quistis watched him go, shaking her head in tolerant good humor.


	6. Quistis' Lament

"So…" Quistis ventured, as Squall collected his discarded clothing and weapon. "Am I the only one you haven't laid lips on in the past twelve hours or so?"

Squall turned a flat glare on her. "What are you talking about?" he asked incuriously.

"Rinoa, last night. Irvine this morning. I came looking for you after talking to Selphie—that makes three, by the way—and I find you cuddled up on the ground with Zell. Four." She raised an expectant eyebrow.

"I didn't kiss Zell. He needed to work off some frustration and all the grats were too terrified to come near him." Squall indicated the monster carcasses with a sweep of his blade. "We were just wrestling."

Quistis looked dubious, but she let it rest. "I think Zell's plan is good. A shower and some lunch sound great."

No response.

"There's something wrong with the plumbing in my shower. Can I borrow yours?"

"…Whatever."

Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Quistis followed Squall as he headed out.

Near the entrance, an undersized T-Rexaur stumbled blindly out of the brush. It growled at them, but as Quistis readied her whip it emitted a terrified-sounding shriek and ran away.

"What was that all about?" Quistis mused.

"Zell," Squall responded shortly. "I think he traumatized it."

"Oh."

Squall impassively made his way out and headed to his room. Quistis trailed behind him, thinking hard.

They caught quite a few stares as they made their way to the dorms, although whether they were prompted by rumors of Squall's amorous adventures this morning, or just due to the fact that the Commander of Balamb Garden was crusted with dirt, sporting a ferocious scowl, and had his hair sticking up in unruly tufts was open to debate. There were several Trepies as well, adding their sighs of longing as counterpoint to the silent chorus of stares as Quistis passed by.

"Why was Zell upset?" Quistis asked the back of Squall's head.

"He was dumped," Squall replied, not turning to face her.

"Oh, no! Is he alright?"

"Yes." His answer was cold and precise.

The reached Squall's dorm room and he let them in.

"You go first," Quistis offered when Squall turned, the question written on his face. He nodded abruptly and moved to gather clean clothing.

"Mind if I have a seat?" she inquired, gesturing to the bed. Squall merely shrugged and entered the small bathroom, clean clothes clutched in his arms.

Sinking into the bed, Quistis sighed. She couldn't understand why Squall, who had opened up to everyone else—confiding in Rinoa, kissing Irvine, comforting Selphie, and listening to Zell—was still as inaccessible as ever in regards to her.

"He said any of us," she whispered to herself. "Do I count as 'us?'?" Could he really think of them as a group of five, rather than six? "No… I asked him… he repeated it. 'What's a kiss between friends?' he said. So… am I a friend to him?" Only one way to find out.

She waited for a few minutes until the water shut off. There was a faint rustling from behind the door. She tried very hard not to think about Squall. Naked, wet, lovely Squall. Squall dropping his towel to the floor, soft, full lips parting, saying—

"Quistis?" His voice carried through the door.

She shook her head, trying to clear out the lascivious thoughts. "Yes?"

"The shirt I picked has a hole in it. Will you get me a new one?"

"Sure." Checking the drawer she'd seen him rummaging through earlier, Quistis found an array of nearly identical shirts. The colors varied from off-white to light grey. She chose one in an ivory that reminded her of his skin.

Tapping on the door, she said, "I've got it." The door creaked open a few inches and a strong, pale arm extended. Forcing herself not to look, Quistis placed the new shirt in the questing hand and sat once more on the bed. She felt very warm.

The door opened once again and Squall stepped out, dressed as he always was. Quistis' breath caught as she looked him over. "How you manage to put on all those belts so quickly, I'll never guess." Her voice quavered, the cheer in it patently false.

"Did you want to use my shower or not?" Squall demanded.

"Alright, alright, I'm going." Quistis slipped in and shut the door behind her.

Squall made sure the door clicked shut before he let out the breath he was holding. Quistis always put him on edge. She was beautiful, yes, but she always made him feel like a mouse in a falcons' mew. He thought about leaving before she came back out, but cringed at the thought of leaving Quistis loose in his room any more than she had been already. There was no telling what she might get into.

Dropping onto his bed, Squall rested his head in his hands, one finger absently tracing the scar between his eyes. The scar was still an angry red; he hoped it would fade to white, soon.

Why did Quistis affect him like this? Rinoa, when she had singled him out for decorative use on the dance floor, hadn't made him feel this way. Neither had Irvine, calling him gorgeous and kissing him… in a way he didn't want to examine too closely at the moment, but couldn't help remembering. Warm lips against his own, a flicker of tongue teasing his mouth, strong arms holding him tight…

No, he didn't want Irvine—probably—but just the feeling of _somebody_ there. A warm body to hold and be held by… lips to kiss and fingers to touch…

_Damn Zell,_ he thought. _Now I'm dwelling on how lonely I am._ That wouldn't do. Not now. Not with Quistis the predator naked in his shower.

Although…

No.

Well, maybe…

Maybe…

If he turned the tables, tried to catch her… would they catch each other?

Or kill each other?

No. Bad idea. Especially now, with Quistis the perpetually condescending teacher _naked_ in his bathroom. Quistis the lovely, collected predator, always hunting him, never showing any physical weakness… only her emotional ones. Squall had enough emotional weaknesses of his own, didn't he?

He heard the water shut off and ran a hand through his hair, forgetting that it was still wet. He dried his hand on the bed and listened to the soft sounds of Quistis drying off… pulling on her clothing…

A ripping sound, followed by a muffled curse, snapped Squall out of his daze.

"Squall?" Quistis sounded strange.

"Yes?"

"My top tore. Can I borrow a shirt?"

Squall sighed. Quistis was on the prowl again, hunting as blatantly as possible. "Alright," he said, resigned. He pulled a shirt out of the drawer at random. "Here," he said, after a quick knock.

The door opened and Squall caught a glimpse of long, slender legs before they disappeared under the brief towel she wore wrapped around her body. He looked up at her face. Contrary to the lecherous smile he expected, Quistis looked terrible. Her eyes were bloodshot and there were tear marks down her cheeks. Her nose was running unpleasantly. She looked… fragile. Human.

"Quistis?" Squall still held the shirt out, but didn't let go when she grasped it. "What's wrong?"

"What makes you think something's wrong?" she snipped.

"You're crying."

"You noticed. Thanks for the shirt."

"Quistis…" Squall warned.

"I'm just feeling sorry for myself. That's all. Not that you care." She bit off her words distastefully.

"Funny, so was I." Squall still gripped the shirt. "What was yours about?"

"Now you care? I think I'd rather talk to a wall." She glared meaningfully at him. "Now give me that shirt unless you want rumors going around about why I left your room naked and crying."

Squall released his hold instantly and had the bathroom door slammed in his face. He sighed, walked to the hallway entry, locked it, turned around, and sat on the floor, his shoulder blades pressed into the door.

Shortly thereafter, Quistis emerged from the bathroom, her face somewhat repaired. She was wearing her usual coral skirt with the fringed belt, but Squall's sleeveless, V-necked, light grey shirt made a distinct contrast to her usual appearance. The color washed her out, made her look delicate, unreal. The fact that she carried her tall boots draped over one arm, exposing her legs, only added to the impression.

"I deserved that," Squall said before she could speak, "but I'm here to listen this time. Or, if you don't want to talk to me, there's a wall right there." He pointed behind her. "Either way, you're not getting out of here until you tell me what's wrong with you."

"What's wrong with me?" Quistis exploded. "What's wrong with _me?_ What the hell is wrong with _you?_" Her eyes were frosted with anger. "You cold son of a bitch! I have been trying to help you for years! I've been the one to put up with your asshole attitude, the one who stayed by you, no matter how nasty you were. What do I get for all that? What's my reward for putting up with years of your shit? More shit!"

She was pacing furiously now, venting her rage. "You utter bastard! You'll joke with Zell, you'll cuddle Selphie, you'll freaking well snog Irvine, but I don't even rate a civil 'hello'?"

Stopping, Quistis looked at Squall. A cold, hard look that spoke of years of buried pain. "You want to know what's wrong with me? You. _You_ are what is wrong with me, Squall Leonhart." She laughed, a short, pain-filled yelp. "I was trying to figure out if I actually counted among your so-called friends. I had planned," she choked back a sob before going on, "to come out in that towel and ask you, straight out, if you were friend enough to do something for me. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized that you would just throw me off like you always have. I didn't want to have to deal with that." She smiled, a bitter, brittle thing. "I've been rejected by you often enough. I just couldn't deal with it again."

Squall slowly rose to his feet. His eyes caressed her, from her dripping blonde hair, wetting her shirt—_his_ shirt—in a way that spoke straight to his groin, to her bare feet, as fragile-seeming as the rest of her, and so different from any way he had ever seen her before.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" she demanded. He only watched her as she walked up to him. He watched her lift her hand. He watched her eyes narrow. The force of the open-handed slap landing on his cheek broke his view, but he turned his head back soundlessly and resumed his watching.

"You don't feel anything, do you?" Quistis asked, conflicting emotions dragging her voice into a hush.

Wordlessly, Squall reached out and pulled her to him. He watched her eyes widen in alarm, then surprise, then he stopped watching as they both closed their eyes and simply felt.

A soft press of lips, the warm wetness of a questing tongue. The taste of coffee and mint. The slender comfort of her body against his, hesitant hands fluttering at his back.

Rough cloth, toned flesh, smooth skin, tangled hair, warm breath, wet lips, firm bed…

Bed?

Squall looked down and found that he'd backed Quistis across the room and was kneeling over her. "I felt that," he answered.

"Oh… good…" she said breathlessly.

"What did you want to ask me?"

"What?" Quistis was trying to clear the haze of fog from her brain.

"You said you had wanted to ask me for something. What was it?"

"It—it was… I think it was granted." Quistis smiled up at him, staring at eyes that had gone as softly blue as a winter morning. She lifted a hand to touch his damp hair and admired the curve of his cheek as he looked down at her, something dark and passionate lurking behind the serenity of his expression. He leaned in to her—

—and their stomachs growled in unison. They looked down, then back up. Their eyes locked.

"Maybe we should have some lunch." Quistis broke the silence.

Amusement crossed Squall's countenance. "Perhaps we should." He stood and offered her a hand. She accepted.

"Did you want to wear that, or change into one of your own?" Squall asked, indicating her shirt.

"Oh…" She looked slightly embarrassed. "I should probably get one of mine." She started for the door.

"Quistis?" Squall's soft voice stopped her. She turned. "I'm sorry," he continued.

Placing a hand on her hip, Quistis admonished him, "It would have saved a lot of trouble if you'd said that earlier." She smiled affectionately. "At least now I know you're not gay. Bi, maybe, but not gay."

"What _is_ it with people thinking I'm gay, today?" Squall exclaimed. Seeing Quistis' glance at him, he looked down. Sure enough, his hand was resting on an off-center hip. He looked back at Quistis, who just now realized that they were mirroring each other.

He straightened up and folded his arms across his chest, noticing too late that she had done the same. They both dropped their arms—this time identically clasping them behind their backs.

There was a long moment.

Simultaneously, they laughed.

"Go change your shirt," Squall said. "I'll see you in the cafeteria."

"And… maybe tonight?" Mischief ghosted through her smile.

"Maybe," Squall replied.

Grinning, Quistis turned and left.

Squall thought over what had just happened, and what had happened with every one of his friends today. "Oh, no," he moaned. "There's going to be a riot at my door tonight."


	7. Squall's Deluge

Squall absently ran a comb through his hair and wondered what to do. He had, if he wasn't mistaken, no less than five people who might show up at his room tonight, expecting some time alone with him. While that might prove interesting, it was more likely a disaster waiting to happen. Or a series of disasters. If Selphie came to claim her kiss while Irvine was there, hoping for another… and then Quistis showed up wanting a continuation of what they had just done… followed by Zell with a Triple Triad deck in hand, looking for a shoulder to cry on—maybe… looking back on it, it was hard to tell what he had meant—and then Rinoa wanting… well, whatever it was that Rinoa wanted from him…

_Why me?_

He figured that he'd better go down for lunch. Hopefully he could find everybody and minimize the damage. He gave his reflection a cursory once-over, decided he was presentable, and went to the cafeteria.

He ordered the daily special without asking what it was. It was all pretty generic, anyway. In the back of the room he spotted Zell, alone, stuffing his face.

Squall sat down opposite Zell and observed him for a moment. "Zell, you're not a pig, but you do eat like one."

Zell flashed a broad grin, looking like a chipmunk with full cheek pouches.

"I heard about your choking fit last night at the party," Squall told him. "Try not to repeat it, okay?"

Zell's face darkened at the memory of Quistis, Selphie, and Ako all trying to pound on his back and of Irvine filming his outburst of temper. He swallowed a few times to clear his mouth and took a smaller bite.

Squall noted that and nodded approvingly. "Uh, Zell?" he asked. "You know how you wanted to come over? Well, tonight—"

"Hey, there!" Irvine strolled up and dropped into a chair beside Squall. "Zell," he exclaimed, "I like the new 'do!"

Zell's eyes crossed as he tried to see his own hair. He swallowed. "Thanks. Squall recommended it." The long hairs normally teased up into a crest atop his head were softly falling to either side of his face in subtle waves. "I figured that being 5'10" with hair didn't matter—I still get called short." The last was directed at Squall, who resisted a smile.

"Well, man," Irvine declared, nudging Squall in the ribs, "it looks like you've got good taste." He tipped his hat in a mock salute.

"Yeah…" Squall looked at the two. "There's something we need to talk about."

"Guys!" Selphie's excited shout rang over the cafeteria. She bounded up to them. "I was just talking to Quistis and she gave me the best news!"

Squall cringed.

"She said that Headmaster Cid said that since Garden Festival happened at such a bad time I can plan another one!"

"That's great, Sefie!" Irvine beamed.

"Thanks, Irvy." Selphie ducked her head shyly. "Squall," she said suddenly, "what happened to your face? It looks like a handprint!"

Squall floundered for a response. He really didn't want to tell the others about Quistis, but if he avoided the question Selphie would hound him until she got—or invented—an answer that satisfied her.

They were all three staring at him, now. "…I'm not sure," Squall offered weakly.

Improbably, Zell came to the rescue. "Oh! I bet I decked you when we were wrestling. Sorry 'bout that."

"Don't worry about it," Squall told him, relieved at the plausible explanation. "I didn't even notice it."

"You were wrestling?" Irvine asked, a knowing grin forming on his too-pretty face.

"Who won?" Selphie interjected.

"Zell did." Quistis had changed back into her usual clothing and had restored her hair to its usual clip. She looked her normal, implacable self, and Squall felt a thrill run through him, knowing what was hiding under that cool exterior.

"Came out on top, did you?" Irvine leered at Zell.

"Shut up." Zell swatted playfully at Irvine, knocking his hat off.

Selphie pounced on the fallen headgear and backed away, holding it behind her back. "You can't have it back until you behave yourself," she admonished. Her attempt at sternness was spoiled by her wide grin. Irvine glowered and swiped at her but Selphie dodged easily and backed away.

Zell and Quistis watched, laughing, as Irvine and Selphie circled the table. At a particularly loud guffaw from Zell, Irvine tossed a murderous look over his shoulder at the convulsing blondes before resuming his chase.

Squall felt something drop on his head and a presence at his side. He turned and saw Rinoa, grinning wickedly. "You might want to hide that," Rinoa said, indicating his head. "I took it from Selphie while he was distracted. He'll figure it out pretty soon."

Squall reached up and removed Irvine's hat from his head. He set it on the table next to Zell, kicking the fighter as he did so.

Zell turned with a yelp and opened his mouth to say something, but caught Squall's glance and remained quiet. He looked down and saw the hat beside his plate. He looked up again at Squall and, seeing the faint smile and the twinkle in his currently slate-grey eyes, passed the hat to Quistis.

Quistis looked at the hat in her hands, looked at Irvine, who had just caught Selphie and discovered her state of hatlessness, and, thinking fast, tossed it to Rinoa.

Irvine whirled to face the four at the table just as Rinoa once again dropped the hat on Squall's head. Seeing Squall sitting there, poking absently at the nondescript mess on his tray, Irvine's hat shadowing his eyes, he laughed out loud.

"Damn, sweetheart!" he said. "If you wanted to borrow my clothes, you could have just asked." Ignoring the others' laughter, Irvine strutted around to stand behind Squall. Squall stoically ignored him. Bending low, the heat of his breath sending tingles down Squall's spine, Irvine whispered, "I think I _will_ stop by tonight." He ran a finger up Squall's back and tipped the hat over the brunette's face, stifling a protest. He then plucked his hat up, settled it on his own head, touched the brim of his hat to acknowledge the group, said, "Later," and sauntered out of the cafeteria.

"As fun as this is, kiddies," Zell stated while Squall struggled to regain his composure, "I've got stuff I need to do. Selphie, don't forget you promised to look over Ragnarok's engines with me."

Selphie looked indignant. "I didn't forget, Zell!"

"Sorry." Zell sounded contrite. "I'll see you in an hour, then." He turned to the others. "I'll see you guys later. Oh, and Squall… thanks for the match." If he grinned any wider his head would probably have split apart. "If you want to try again, I'm ready for you."

One corner of Squall's mouth pulled back. "A rematch sounds good. Tonight—"

"Tonight would be perfect!" Zell enthused. "See ya then!" He bounced out the door, turning a cartwheel through the cafeteria line—much to the dismay of the people standing in said line.

Squall sighed, plunked his elbows on the table, and buried his face in his hands. A soft touch on his shoulder made him look up.

"I forgot about Zell," Selphie whispered. "I've got to go, too, if I'm going to talk to Irvy before meeting Zell." She bent low to breathe her next words into his ear. "I think it'll be okay between us, but I still need to _know_. I'll claim that kiss tonight, Squall." Her lips touched the top of his ear in a feathery light kiss, and then she was gone.

Squall dropped his head again. He had wanted to avoid problems, and instead had three confirmed dates for tonight. This wasn't good. The worst part was that every time one of his friends said they were coming over, he felt a little rush of anticipation. It kept playing over and over in his mind… the taste of champagne on Rinoa's lips, Irvine's arms crushing their bodies together, Selphie squirming delightfully on his lap seeking comfort, Zell's lapis eyes begging for reassurance, Quistis looking up at him from his bed…

What was wrong with him? Was he seriously lusting after _all_ of his friends? That would be sick—and what did it say about his sexuality? What was it that Quistis had said? "At least now I know you're not gay. Bi, maybe, but not gay." Was that true? Was he really _attracted_ to men and women alike, or was he just so starved for physical affection that he didn't care where he got it from? Or was he just attracted to weakness?

That was a sobering thought. He'd gone for each of them in a moment of frailty. Rinoa, always in need of a rescue, looking so wistful at the party… Irvine, begging for help, his delicate features inscribed with his need… Selphie, so small he could practically break her with one hand, tears spilling from her emerald eyes… Zell, his hair as broken down as his spirit, wanting to be told that he was worthwhile… Quistis, pale as a porcelain doll and just as easily damaged, her anger at him and at herself overwhelming her, making her lose control… was he some sort of sadist for being drawn to them all when they were hurting in some way?

No.

_No._

Surely not.

After all, he'd made them feel better, not tried to increase their pain, hadn't he?

Hadn't he?

Rinoa had lost that look of sad longing after his kiss, and weren't Irvine and Selphie feeling good enough to chase each other around the table? Zell had been eating like usual instead of sulking and avoiding everybody, and Quistis was here, smiling, laughing…

…Shaking him. Squall looked up from his hands.

"Welcome back," Quistis mocked. "Rinoa decided that you were in Squall-land and went to get something to eat. I wanted to talk with you, anyway. About tonight."

Squall tried to speak, but Quistis touched his lips with a finger and went on. "It's about what I was going to ask you… earlier." She glanced around to assure herself that no one was listening before saying, "I've got a problem and I think you're the best one to help me with it. I have something that's becoming a real burden… I was hoping you could relieve me of it."

"What?" Squall was completely lost.

"My virginity." Quistis stated, very matter-of-fact.

Squall froze.

"Hear me out, first," Quistis said quickly. "I'm not performing at my top capacity lately. The curiosity is killing me. Well, that, and the fact that I have a horrible urge to rip the clothes off of every good-looking male I see." She eyed Squall, licked her lips, and continued. "I don't want to just pick up a random stranger, though. That would be wrong in so many ways. Irvine's gay, so that eliminates him, and Zell would take it too seriously. I don't even want to get into what a member of my fan club would think of it. I just need a friend I can trust who won't get emotionally involved, Squall. You're perfect for that." She glanced at him, concerned. "Squall?" She poked him in the shoulder. "Breathe."

Looking faintly blue, Squall did as ordered. He gasped for air, finally getting back to a semblance of normality as Rinoa returned. She resumed her seat next to him.

Quistis leaned in and said in a soft voice, "I'll drop by late tonight. You can answer me then." She kissed his cheek in the middle of her handprint, rose, and departed.

"What was that about?" Rinoa asked, poking at her meat-like substance on a bun.

"I'm not sure," Squall answered, stunned. He touched his cheek where he still felt the fiery imprint of Quistis' lips.

"Huh. Oh well." Rinoa took a tentative bite, chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and shrugged. "S'not too bad," she observed. "Anyway, you know how I asked for a favor this morning?" At his nod, she said, "Want some company tonight?"

There was a soft _thump_ as Squall's head hit the table. He groaned.

"Squall? Your arm is in your mashed potatoes."


	8. The Morning After

The morning after 

Squall opened eyes the color of a midsummer sky. He was lying on his back, bare chest like toned alabaster displayed above the sheet bunched about his waist. A smile was on his lips.

He reflected on the previous day. After the lunchroom disaster he'd retreated to his room, deciding that whoever showed up, showed up. It was funny, though, to have five dates for the night, but only one who made it.

He languidly rolled his head to one side to see a shaggy head resting on his shoulder.

"'Morning," he said with tolerant good humor. "Sleep well?"

There was a grunt.

"Right. You're not a morning person. I'll remember that." Squall extracted his arm and stood up.

He performed a few stretches to get the kinks out of his muscles. Sleepy eyes tracked his movements. "I'm for a shower. I'm sure we'll be expected at the goodbye party—I'm positive they'll have arranged one." Squall tossed a wink at the occupant of his bed before pulling out some clean clothes. "Care to join me?"

No response.

"Oh well. It's really too small a shower for company." Squall ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair then reached for his bathroom door.

Three loud, rapid knocks made him look over just as the hallway door was thrown open.

"Wake up, Squallie!" Selphie yelled, barging into the room. "We're having a surprise party for Rinoa, since she's leaving today and—" She stopped, staring at Squall, who was holding a bundle of clothing protectively in front of himself, then staring at Squall's bed.

She giggled.

"Irvy!" she shouted in excitement.

"What?" Irvine strolled in behind her. He, too, stopped to stare. After a moment of indecision, he concentrated his gaze on Squall, who seemed to be performing the most interesting full-body blush. A wide grin spread over Irvine's face as he fought not to laugh out loud—which was more than Selphie could manage—and he finally said, "You dog!"

Selphie only laughed harder.

"What's going on?" Quistis poked her head in the door. She stopped in her tracks. After a surprised silence she padded all the way into the room and crossed over in front of Squall. "That's a nice color," she commented on his beet-red blush. "I didn't know it could go that low." She casually walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. "Have a nice night?" she asked, cheerfully.

"Hey, Quistis!" Zell exclaimed. "I think I've got your shower working right again." He tried to see around Irvine, who was blocking the doorway. "Did you collect Squall? Why's everybody just standing around?"

Irvine moved to one side, past the still hysterically giggling, now scarlet, Selphie, so Zell could see for himself.

"What's the big—whoa!" Zell's double take didn't seem to be enough for him, because he did it again. And again.

"Zell, you look like a bobble-head doll," Rinoa said. "What's the big deal?"

On hearing her voice, Angelo stood up, shook himself vigorously, jumped off the bed, and trotted up to her feet.

"Thanks for watching him for me, Squall," Rinoa said, smiling and patting Angelo on the head. The dog panted happily. "He always gets in the way when I try to pack." She studied him. "Why are you blushing like that? You're practically purple!"

Clad only in his grey briefs, Squall gathered the tattered remnants of his dignity about him in lieu of a more tangible covering. Ignoring Selphie's shrieks of merriment, Irvine's mocking howls and barks, Quistis' scarcely concealed leer, and Zell's bemusedly entertained grin, he addressed Rinoa evenly. "Your dog snores." He then turned and entered the bathroom, resolutely disregarding the fresh burst of laughter from them all. He shut the door behind him, clicked the lock… and laughed quietly at himself.


End file.
